Cold
by extra-victory
Summary: It was a cold house. Grimmjow and Ulquiorra as primary story focus.


Ex-V; This was my dream last night.

Changed very slightly, ever so slightly, to remain open-ended. I prefer it intuitive.

It was a cold house.

I remember once, looking from the window. The one window.

There was steep hill outside and a dark sky to contrast it; If you asked me these days to find that window I could not.

I remember once seeing another man wandering the halls. He looked just like me, as if i stood before the mirror. If you asked me to find that man or that mirror, i could not.

What I can find are two spirits, that haunt these halls around me. The one spirit is hostile, the other kind and friendly.

The threat of one is constant, my longing for the other endless.

I often remember how I saw that man, who looked just like me one time; Just like me save the hair which was parted incorrectly. you could see his eyes if you looked, and my eyes are constantly hidden. For some reason they stay hidden, you cant see them and never will.

It was that day I Saw Grimmjow, the vengeful, who approached me. Darkness closed the halls and formed tendrils where he went; Those tendrils which reached out to me, to end my time in this cold house.

It was suddenly so very cold. It was suddenly frigid and cold.

But there, Lo, Ulquiorra. The beautiful, who stands before me, turning Grimmjow away. I can feel his disgust but the vile spirit departs faithfully.

And we are alone, as i wished it. As i have always wished, since finding this place.

Ulquiorra Turns to me, making sure to fix my hair. "You can nearly see your eyes" he warns me sometimes. "Be more careful."

So I follow him when he goes, as I know his true wishes.

Those wishes are clear to me. The implications are clear. It's clearly implied. And we find a stairs, that I could not find again if asked. Not ever.

I follow him.

On the stairs, he turns to address me, but says nothing. "..."

His eyes speak to me. They say volumes. They always do.

We find a room upstairs, with a television in the corner projecting something. I wonder, if i was asked to recall what I saw on it...Could I?

No, I could not. I never can.

But I can easily recall that he offers me a cigarette; I take it of course. I never smoked before this house; But it wouldn't be so cold outside. So there's a reason.

"How do you stand it here?" Ulquiorra watches me carefully. He always does.

"Its fun. When i see you."

He twitches; But still I watch him watch me. "Careful." he says, looking about for Grimmjow. "Your hair."

I have to put the smoke out, it hurts. It always does.

"What's wrong?" the beautiful shade is curious, as alwaysl, of my every move.

"It hurts, of course." I tell him. Pointing to my chest, I wonder if he knows. "Do you understand the feeling I'm trying to describe?"

He has no lungs.

I can tell, though, i can see him trying hard to understand my motivation. You can tell by his lips, his eyes, and his brow.

He stands very abruptly. "You should not like me."

I consider that. Is he right? Is the house a bad thing? Has it always been?

When he leaves, i can tell the implication is not to follow.

But I follow.

On the Stairs, I find the stairs again. And i can reach for him, while also reaching him.

That's unusual.

Ive reached him. I can hold his fingers, and touch his hand. "You can feel this."

He looks at me. He looks in my eyes, which he can't see. But I can see.

"Yes." and that moment lasts much longer than the house will. It becomes very cold, it becomes incredibly frigidly cold. "Yes."

He says again.

And he means it. I can see in his lips, his eyes and brow. But he turns from me, so quickly it should hurt by all rights.

"I was supposed to do it tonight."

You should have.

"I'm supposed to do it every night."

He never has.

"It should be me.";

I prefer you.

"But I never can."

I don't blame you.

(Transition through the house)

Grimmjow, i know his name well. I know his face well.

I remember, one day, while I was looking from the window...When the house was much colder and smaller than it is today.

I saw another person, who looked just like me. Just like me.

But his eyes were unusual...I knew they were there, without seeing them. I could not see them.

He looked just like me, though. I wonder if Grimmjow would like that;

If it was me.

So I tried it, easily, it was so easy in front of the mirror. And i found him, I found Grimmjow, on a couch watching TV.

"Look." I called out to him, pleased. I felt very proud of this new development.

You could not hardly see my eyes.

But his face drained of color, and for a spirit, i couldn't imagine. If you asked me what it looked like, i could not recall. I could not tell you.

His face drained of color, and his jawbone trembled. Grimmjow was on his feet, and he approached me so quickly. The house was so cold, suddenly. It was incredibly frigid and cold.

Now Grimmjow was before me, and at a certain distance, he stopped. His weight, i saw him swing on the back foot like a pivot, I wondered if he would finally kill me after so long. So many years.

It had truly been so long.

His eyes were more frightened though, they failed to pronounce danger.

The sword was in his hand so quickly it looked slow. I saw it, through my hair, and i could tell he couldn't see me. The Sword moved from scabbard at light-speed and i watched it. Highly curious, as always; He moved it, and moved himself. The blade whipped in front of me so fast time crawled.

I wondered why it looked so slow and went fast. I'm clearly dead? Did he finally kill me?

But he had not killed me, he'd saved me. I could feel the hair move from my eyes to above them. In the regular position; He clearly moved so quickly to ensure my survival. At that speed even he could not slay me, of course.

That was difficult to understand.

I tried to rationalize it, tried to quantify that in the moment; even while his body was yet moving, bearing his weight. The other hand vanished now, producing a cigarette pack invisibly fast. I felt his fist jam a smoke between my lips before shaking one free; I saw him jab towards my mouth a moment later at mach 5. It was there though, of course, while i watched the same motion bring the sword back. When the blade fell around again it was there to catch the edge.

Back at my face, where it grazed the tip of the square in my mouth.

Now Grimmjow took a step back and admired his work, or admired me.

His deep breath was audible. He surely has no lungs, though.

"Never do that to me again." He was sighing. The house never felt so cold. "Never. Promise me.";

"I swear..." Feeling slightly bewildered but not dead.

That's cool.

"You know I need to see your eyes." That glorious body retook its place, on the couch. Where i would move to, presently. I knew immediately beforehand i would join him there, and I did. As if i was prescient.

He wanted me there. It was implied. Anyone could tell.

I wasn't wrong; Grimmjow hides poorly his desire for me every time. "You really are supposed to kill me though." I pointed out.

"I am." He grumbled, smiling slightly, indicating my smoke. "Slowly."

Ah. Very slowly, indeed.

Very Slowly.


End file.
